Today was L’s one-week, post-transfer follow-up to have her progesterone level checked. Everything checked out fine (desired range 20-100, her score: 52). As such, we’ll continue with the PIO shots at the current dosage for at least another week.

Next Friday is the “big day” when we find out the results of this IVF cycle.

The waiting (thus far) hasn’t been too bad. I think the poor fertilization rates were enough of a slap of reality to ensure that we didn’t spend these two weeks in a state of optimistic, hyper-anticipation. On balance, this is probably a good thing… and really our odds are, statistically speaking, reasonably good (perhaps 35-40% for a singleton and 10% for twins). That’s much better than the 0% we faced while regimentally fucking during the TTC year(s).

And, since we’re signed up in a shared risk program through IVF cycle #3, there’s not a lot of drama about “where to go from here” should we have a negative outcome. The first cycle was (thus far) easily bearable for us. The plan of action is in place. The money has already been spent or allocated for future rounds of drugs.

Given all of that, we remain neutral in our expectation. A positive result would be a wonderful surprise. A negative result (I hope) won’t be devastating.

Of course, this is probably just how I approach life: “an optimist will tell you the glass is half-full; the pessimist, half-empty; and the engineer [me] will tell you the glass is twice the size it needs to be.”

My biggest concern, should we face a negative outcome next week, is that L doesn’t become too distraught or disappointed by the news. For me, that’s probably the hardest part of all of this: seeing her at the “low points.” I suspect—though I have nearly zero empirical evidence outside of my own experience—that most husbands/partners feel this same way.